Lullabies
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: Five lullabies for five couples. LxNear, LxNaomi, MattxMello, LxLight, LMN.


Disclaimer: Nope!

Author's Note: 'Cause I can't resist a challenge…

Challenge:

1) Put iPod on random.

2) Write five mini-fics inspired by the first five songs that pop up.

3) Additional challenge—each fic must be centered around a different pairing.

…and clearly my iPod hates me… (Pokémon? Seriously? Well, I guess since I have about six CDs worth of Pokémon on my iPod, it was only a matter of time… But moving on.)

Warnings: Near's real name, and other spoilers for the end of the series. Unusual pairings mixed in with the more cliché. No likey, no readie. :D

(PS. Can anyone point me in the direction of some LMN doujinshi? Or just LN…?)

**XXX**

**Lullabies  
**

_**Five Songs for Five Couples**_

**XXX**

**I. Your Song (Moulin Rouge)**_  
Pairing: LxNear  
(Note: The song quoted in this ficlet is "The Cupcake Song.")_

Near loved bedtime.

Rather, he loved bedtime when L was home. For while bedtime-with-Roger meant all of the doors slamming shut simultaneously, and each kid's light snapping off at eight o'clock sharp, L chose to do things… differently.

He was not the children's idol for nothing.

"Alright. Who is first?" he'd ask the gathered mass of little ones once seven had come around. He needn't have waited that long; the orphans would all be dressed and brushed and ready for sleep by six on nights like this. No one minded going to bed early if it was L who put them there.

The question would barely be out of his mouth before clamors and cries of "Me! Me! Me!" would start echoing through the living room, and L—smiling faintly—would tap the head of the closest child, or grab them by the hand, or even lift them into his arms, and wander off with them. Then, following the passing of ten unbearably-long minutes, he would reappear and ask: "Who is next?"

And so the night would proceed. Usually the girls would be taken away first; he heard through the grapevine that L read them stories about princes and fairies from large dusty books before he turned off their lights. Then came the boys, most of whom wished to hear recounts of his most recent cases. Due to the sheer number of children, all of these individual good-nights took well past nine… but that was a small price to pay for alone time with L.

Especially for Mello and Near, whom L always saved for last.

When it was just the three of them, L would no long ask "Who is next?" Only fools stated the obvious; obviously, Mello would want to go before Near. And so, grinning all the while, the smug blonde would take L's hand and toddle with him to the kitchen, where the pair would share a late-night snack of chocolate chip cookies and warm milk. This would take anywhere from fifteen minutes to thirty, as Mello found it necessary to share every detail of his day with L. And L, being L, would sit patently and listen until he was done. Then he'd pat Mello on the head, lift him into his arms, and deposit him in his bedroom.

Then, finally, it was Near's turn.

Though he'd never leave his corner, never allow his face to betray the excitement he felt, Near would always start to tremble as L rounded the corner into the living room, shuffling towards him with that same small smile upon his face. But now, the smile would seem more real—as if it had finally found its way to his bagged, black eyes.

When at last he reached the back corner of the room, the young detective would pause. Near, trying not to look too eager, would spend a final minute playing with whatever toy he had in his possession. But soon, the building pressure would be too much: Near would reach upwards; L would reach down. The toy that had been in Near's small arms would fall to the floor with a forgotten clatter.

"Are you ready for bed, Little Near?" L would ask as he carried the tiny child to his bedroom, arms wrapped securely around his fragile form. And Near, who would allow no other persons to touch him, would nod into the older man's shoulder, savoring the warmth of his body.

They would reach Near's bedroom far too soon; L would open and close the door with one hand (it only took one to hold Near, anyway), but never touch the lights. Instead, the unlikely pair would stand beside the curtainless window, and L would lift the little boy high into the air, watching Near's silvery curls glisten in the starshine.

"…do I get my lullaby tonight?" the child would then ask—he always asked—and would blush faintly when L snorted, an affectionate beam crawling onto his face.

The sight was contagious. Despite his best efforts, Near would soon feel his own lips curling upward, the teeny grin only growing when L began swinging him back and forth—slowly and gently, like a human metronome.

And then the world's greatest detective would quietly sing: "_You're my honey-bunch, sugar plum, pummy-yummy-umpkin; you're my sweetie pie. You're my cuppy-cake, gum drop, shnugum-boogums, you're the apple of my eye. And I love you so, and I want you to know, that I'll always be right here—_"

At this point, L would spin away from the moonglow and give Near a brief, tight hug before lying him down on the bed. In the next moment, he would gingerly crawl atop him, legs and arms framing Near's thin body under his gray quilt: "_And I love to sing sweet songs to you, because—_"

There was a beat of rest in the melody; L would mark it by playfully pecking Near's left cheek, chuckling as the child squirmed and giggled.

"_You—_ "Another pause, marked this time by a ticklish peck on the right cheek.

"_Are—" _Forehead, through the curtain of soft curls; L's own dark bangs would tease Near's already pink cheeks, causing his flush to darken.

"_So—" _Tip of the nose, making the boy's stomach flutter wonderfully.

"_Dear." _Lips. And the child would kiss him hungrily back— arms lifting to wrap around L's neck: clinging to the detective with every ounce of strength he had in his little white body.

"_My Near."_

**X**

**II. Pokémon Italian Dance Mix I**_  
Pairing: LxNaomi_

She knew it was silly, and childish, and immature—but even still, she purchased the ringtone anyway, laughing with delight the first time the overly chipper tune echoed from her back pocket: _Gotta catch 'em all, gotta catch 'em all!_ Criminals weren't Pokémon, and yet…_  
_

"Yes, L?" she sang as she flipped the tiny cell open. Her smile was evident in her voice; it apparently caught the detective off-guard.

"…_Naomi-san_?" the mechanically garbled voice said hesitantly, as if unsure he'd dialed the right number. "_I assume you now have caller ID_?"

"No," the young agent returned, her grin widening as she strolled down the busy street. All around her, people paused to gawk—jealous of her beauty, her health, and the obvious love in her heart. "I bought a special ringtone for you. You'd like it, it's very… ironic."

"_I see_…" A pause, thoughtful and long. "_I would very much like to hear_ _it_."

"Unfortunately, I can only play it on this particular phone," Naomi informed him, a hint of playful regret in her tone. "But not when in the middle of a call."

"_I see. That is a problem_," L returned, his voice dripping with similar mock solemnity. "_Then I suppose, for the sake of this mission, I must reveal my face to you. Again_."

Naomi smirked, waving an arm to hail a cab. "So this is a mission, is it?" she teased, sliding into the leather backseat with graceful ease. She mouthed her destination—the FBI Headquarters—to the driver without sparing him a glance. "Everything is work, work, work with you, Ryuuzaki."

"_Some of us only have time for work, I'm afraid,_" L reminded coolly. "_Therefore, if I wish to see you, I must lump you into that category, regrettable though it is._"

"Yeah," Naomi sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just what every girl wants to hear—that she's work."

"_Similar to how every boy wants to hear that their lover has selected the Pokémon theme song as their ringtone._"

Though her gaze remained on the blurred city scenery, Naomi's eyes grew wide. "How did you know what I—?" she began, straightening in surprise.

But the voice on the other end merely chuckled, dark and low and amused.

"_You'll just have to interrogate me later, Naomi-san._"

And the phone line went dead.

**X**

**III. Through the Monson (Tokio Hotel)**_  
Pairing: MelloxMatt_

_Hey…_

_**Yeah?**_

_What do you wanna do when this is all over?  
_

A snort.

_**I doubt this'll **_**ever**_** be over.**_

_Everything has to end sometime. _

_**I guess…**_

A pause.

_**Matt?**_

_Yeah, Mello?_

_**I guess I'd… I'd like to go on a trip.**_

_No shit?_

_**Yeah. Like, see the world, or somethin'.**_

_That's pretty cliché for you._

_**Well, fuck you. You're the one who asked.**_

_I know. I'm just sayin'._

…_**well, what about you?**_

_Me what?_

_**Whatdyou wanna do when this is all over?**_

_I want to go with you._

A blink.

A stare.

A shrug.

_Well, I do. I want to go with you wherever you go. Even if it's on some cheesy, 'round-the-world adventure. _

A swallow.

…_**I'm gonna hold you to that, you know.**_

_Yeah?_

_**Yeah. After all, Disneyland wouldn't be nearly as much fun without you.**_

_What?! _

A laugh.

_Come ON, Mello! Would we _have_ to go to Disneyland?_

_**Wherever we go, we go together!**_

A playful punch; a teasing kiss.

The giggles faded into the darkness of his dimming mind.

Slumped over the large gray steering wheel, Mello closed his eyes and kept their promise.

**X**

**  
IV. Where Are You Now? (Michelle Branch)**_  
Pairing: LxLight_

He'd always known he'd been there: somewhere just beyond his line of vision, just beyond his farthest reach, just beyond the point of no return. Waiting. Watching.

Biding his time.

And it drove Kira crazy to realize this— that he continued to monitor him, and control him, and rule him; that he had always been able to feel those black eyes on him, to sense those thin fingers crawling up and down his skin, to hear that monotonous voice quote stupid percentages in the back of his head… all while he woke up screaming the detective's assumed name into the violet night.

_Leave me alone…_

Why wouldn't he vanish?

_Let me be…!  
_

Why wouldn't he fade into memory?

_Go away!_

Why was he always there…?

_**Kira-san…**_

Broken and bloody on the cement steps, Kira felt his breath hitch. _L…? _

His face hidden, a silent, slouched man continued to watch Kira die from behind the twisted bars of the alleyway.

_L? Is that really—?  
_

His thoughts were cut off by a silent gasp; within his bruised and wounded chest, an unseen fist squeezed his heart.

And still, the mysterious stranger made no move to help him. Rather, he spoke: soft and low, his lips never moving as his voice reverberated through the empty streets.

_**Do you understand now, Kira-san? You have never been a god… how could you be, when you have never liked red apples?**_

Had he the energy, Kira would have snorted. Typical fool, speaking in unnecessary platitudes and metaphors. But it didn't really matter at this point, did it? Feelings like fear and irritation would do him no good… So the man chose to focus his waning attention on the jean-clad specter, and relish how he'd always known that he had been there; as usual, he'd been _right_. And for now, that was enough. In fact, in the scarlet glow of the sunset, one could even say it was a comfort. After all, Kira may have lost the battle, he may have lost the war…

But it seemed he had not forsaken the prize.

The young man's unseeing auburn eyes slid to a close—calmly, smoothly, and gracefully.

_Never been one… to let things die… have you, Ryuuzaki…?_

An answering smile.

_**On the contrary. Shall we go together this time, Light-kun?**_

And for the first time in six years, Yagami Light was truly happy.

**X**

**  
V. We'll Be There (YuGiOh: Music to Duel By)**_  
Pairing: LxNearxMello_

It was strange going back to the orphanage, now. Now when the days of bedtimes and lullabies and sugar-sweet kisses had long since past; now that the days of mindless chatter and bragging and competitions existed only in his mind.

Near frowned faintly, looming over his crumbling childhood toybox. So many memories lay in its dusty depths: innocent touches that smeared him with chocolate, small smiles that warmed him to the core, laughter and lessons and love…

His intense stare fell upon his favorite white puzzle, which sat, neat and completed, at the bottom of the chest.

And it seemed odd that such a delicate toy—a thin sheet of cut cardboard—had survived, intact, through so many years, while Near himself had been shattered into a million pieces. First L, then Mello… his only role model followed by his only friend; his father followed by his brother; his first lover followed by his second.

"…why?" he asked the puzzle softly, glowering at its black-embossed logo. "I avenged them, what else can I do? How else can I move on…?"

The puzzle said nothing.

But when Near bent down to grab it—break it, smash it, leave it in metaphorical and literal shambles—his hand brushed against something soft; a snow-riddled, mechanical clicking resounded from the bottom of the box.

And that, to his surprise, _did_ answer him.

"_You're my honey-bunch, sugar plum, pummy-yummy-umpkin; you're my sweetie pie…_"

Near's heart almost stopped. Momentarily frozen, the fizzy lullaby continued in a soft, affectionate voice— a voice he never thought he'd hear again.

"L…?"

"_You're my cuppy-cake, gum drop, shnugum-boogums, you're the apple of my eye. And I love you so, and I want you to know, that I'll always be right here…_"

Before any conscious thought had gone into his actions, Near fell to his knees—all but diving into the minimally stocked toybox in his quest to discover the source of the song. A robot flew and cracked against the wall; a line of tangled toy ducks soon joined it.

"_And I love to sing sweet songs to you..." _

_Found it_. With ginger fingers, Near lifted the musky, musical toy into the somewhat-fresher air.

"_Because—"_

He examined it carefully— a raggedy pink bear he dimly remembered from his days as a toddler.

"_You—"_

Apparently it had been installed with a recording device inside.

"_Are—"_

He couldn't recall if that had always been the case, or if, perhaps…

"_So dear._"

But either way, when had…?

"_Our Near!_"

Narrowed black eyes widened dramatically; thin hands clenching around the stuffed animal. "_Mello_…" Near breathed, the unexpected second voice stealing whatever strength remained in his legs; the young detective's rear hit the floor with a silent _plop_. And within the next few moments, three large teardrops had done the same.

But even as they fell, Nate River smiled.

**XXX**


End file.
